


Fins and Fans

by Castillon02



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Crack, Humor, M/M, merfolk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:21:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27906634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Castillon02/pseuds/Castillon02
Summary: There's a reason Bond doesn't die whenever he jumps off a yacht in the middle of the ocean.
Relationships: James Bond/Q
Comments: 31
Kudos: 92
Collections: Mi6 Cafe Prompt Fills





	Fins and Fans

**Author's Note:**

> For the MI6Cafe's Anon Exchange

He had thought jumping off the yacht was the only thing that could save them. But the ocean was vast and deep and it might have been better if they had died in the explosion. Anything had to be better than this...this... 

“Ooh, will you say it? Say ‘I think he got the point.’” The mershark’s face pulled into a grin that showed off its rows of teeth. Floating in the bay behind it, an entire school of merfolk’s eyes lit up with hope. “Here, we even have a replica harpoon! Kelp made it.” A mersquid waved shyly, a driftwood harpoon clutched in a few of its tentacles. 

...this finned-fan-conference, with all of its reminders of his greatest sea-based near-deaths. News traveled fast underwater, and the merfolk had quickly converged on the spot of his latest rescue. 

“Yes, Bond,” Q said, smirking. “Say your little pun! Your fans deserve some indulgence after floating us to shore and treating us so nicely.” He waved the half-empty bottle of mystery alcohol that a winking crabfolk had shoved into his hand.

“I don’t give a damn,” Bond said, which just made the merfolk cheer. 

“He doesn’t give a damn!” an octofolk repeated. “Just like that time with the submarine!” 

“Or that time with those cliffs!” an aged merseal said. She had saved him from a riptide when he was only a boy. 

“Or that time with the other yacht!” a merdolphin said, chittering their amusement. “That’s double points in Bond Bingo, saving you when there’s a yacht involved. Lucky bastards.” 

“You know, we all just thought you were a good swimmer, what with the complete lack of nautical assistance mentioned in your after-action reports,” Q muttered to him. His face was pinking from the sun and the booze, and his white _Stand Back: I’m Going to Try Science_ undershirt clung to his chest the same way his tartan boxers clung to his thighs. His trousers hadn’t survived the rescue due to a perhaps-on-purpose incident with the mershark. 

Neither Bond nor Q had complained about the incident. Q, in fact, seemed to be rather enjoying himself. There was perhaps even a direct correlation between the amount of Q’s enjoyment and the amount of Bond’s embarrassment. Arse. 

“Can you go on a mission in the Pacific next?” a merman with a tail like a clownfish asked. “It’s been awfully Atlantic-heavy the last few years; it’s lucky I was visiting some relatives and could see you.” 

“No, the Arctic!” a massive orcafolk boomed. “He hardly ever takes a nosedive in there!” 

“Um...I think he’d freeze to death, Moss,” the octofolk pointed out. 

“I have enough blubber to keep him warm,” the orcafolk said, eyeing Bond lustfully. 

Q cleared his throat. “That’s my job,” he said. “Well, me and my cats. And my central heating. And my gadgets. You know. Hand warmers and things.”

There was a long silence, as of a largely underwater culture parsing words like ‘central heating’ and ‘cats.’ Then: 

“I told you!” the mersquid crowed, nearly braining someone with the harpoon. “We get ten Bond Bingo points, not five! Me and Mako rescued him with a _love interest_ , not a platonic co-worker!” 

Q glanced at Bond. “Just out of curiosity, how many other people have they met?” 

“Not that many! Honey Ryder was already friends with one,” Bond defended himself. “And Felix was with me in Florida, but of course he didn’t want to get reported to psych any more than I did.” 

Q frowned. “But who knew about it who was a platonic co-worker?” he asked. 

Bond cleared his throat. “Macau,” he said. 

“Ah, Moneypenny.”

“She got on beautifully with a goldfish mermaid; they both had sparkling outfits and wit, and were much more interested in each other than in me.” 

Q smiled. “And they both saved your arse.” 

“I would have been fine.” 

Q favored him with a skeptical side-eye. 

“I’m always fine, aren’t I?” Bond prodded. 

“Because you have your nautical support network!” the mershark jumped in. 

“And your technological support network,” Q pointed out, grinning. 

Probably bringing up the dragons, Bond’s aeronautical support network, or the griffins, his alpine support network, would only make Q smugger. Q could just discover them the next time he was on a mission with Bond that went pear-shaped and needed mythological intervention. 


End file.
